The False Chronicles: Windfall
by Nabiki GMYW
Summary: Dennis finally gets serious about his job and Brooklyn ponders whether it's wise to meet the eerie Lester Kramer, while Xanatos and Owen reach a new level of understanding… Chapter 3 (of 8) – Windfall


**The False Chronicles**

_Chapter Three – Windfall_

By Nabiki GMYW

Brief summary: Dennis finally gets serious about his job and Brooklyn ponders whether it's wise to meet the eerie Lester Kramer, while Xanatos and Owen reach a new level of understanding… Chapter 3 (of 8) – Windfall

Disclaimer: Gargoyles belong to Disney. I am not Disney. And by that I mean Walt or the evil corporation cashing in on his name. If I were, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction, _believe me. Email me at paganj@caribe.net for comments, insults, marriage proposals and stuff. This is Chapter Three of a series. If you haven't read those, go back. Right now, young man! …Lady! … __Person! …Please…?_

**_That Morning_**

His living room was covered with yellow notebook pages that someone —or something— had pasted to his walls, his windows, even his damn ceiling. It looked like the room of a madman or a refrigerator door with one too many children's drawings. Last time he checked, Dennis was neither.

One of the pages pasted to the ceiling came loose and gently floated down to his lap with uncanny gentleness that was almost absurd. Everything felt absurd that morning.

Something was written on it. 

In French.

He crumpled the paper in a ball and threw it over the bed. It missed the wastebasket by inches. He noticed that the other papers beside him were also written. Picking them up, one by one, he noticed all were written. French, Italian, Spanish. One he could only guess to be Russian. Others were Chinese or Japanese, he wasn't sure.

"Now what?" he mumbled as he looked up and around his bedroom, "…now what…? Good God, now what…?"

He didn't receive an answer, but that was ok, he didn't expect any.

_So.__ What are you going to do now? A voice deep inside him said, _Sit here and moan___ all day? Clean up this place and pretend it never happened? Or do something about it?_

_You've known that there was something strange going on in Xanatos Enterprises the minute you walked in. You didn't know it at the time, but now you recognize your trepidation as a sign. Nature is full of signs._

_That you were blindly picked over twelve other applicants with better qualifications was no mere coincidence. The fact that Burnett, the man you were to replace, appeared a few weeks later was no fluke. Nothing that has happened since you stepped inside __Eerie__Building__ is chance or twist of fate._

_Some things, my dear boy, are meant to happen._

_So last night your hand moved by its own volition with the help of someone named Titania. So you remember nothing that happened to you since last night at __7 pm__ to this morning at _11 am___._

_So what are you going to do about it, dear boy? What are you going to do about it?_

PART ONE

**_Last Night_**

The sun set on Manhattan, like it had a habit of doing since the Earth was created.

Six gargoyles let out thunderous roars, much to the bewilderment of the pigeons that were sleeping soundly on top of their heads.

As usual, Brooklyn only got to see the very last rays of sunlight before all light was extinguished over the horizon and night took over, the all-too-familiar night. The moon would soon come out. It was supposed to be full tonight.

Elisa was supposed to come tonight.

It had been several nights since she dropped by, and according to Matt, a few interesting things had happened since then. Apparently, they'd gotten a case about a murdered Xanatos employee. And because Elisa just _loved_ the guy, the very next day she got the file, she went over to the castle to give Xanatos a good insult the likes the world had never seen.

That happened two days ago. No news from Elisa's end, no idea how that worked out. She didn't show up the night of that skirmish nor the next. Hopefully, tonight she would come and properly explain herself.

Even if she did, what he supposed to do about it? Elisa was part of the clan now, right? Was he supposed to scowl her about looking for trouble? What would Goliath do?

Maybe the problem was that he wasn't Goliath. So even if the big guy's ghost whispered the solution in his ear, it wouldn't work. Brooklyn needed to find his own style of command. Whatever that might mean.

He supposed he'd figure it out eventually.

Meanwhile, eating breakfast would have to do. Broadway was the official chef here, and he cooked everybody's food with such gusto it was a shame French restaurants didn't hire gargoyles.

Angela's arrival to the clan certainly gave Broadway the extra nudge he needed to become the chef he was born to be. The way to a man's heart was through his stomach. It was fair to say it worked the other way around too.

By now, it was obvious Broadway was winning the race to Angela's heart. He was the one who comforted her when Goliath… passed away. Broadway's smooth, consoling manner had pierced through the grief that Angela carried like a shroud. Cook, therapist, amateur detective… Lexington and Brooklyn didn't have a chance.

Brooklyn had long ago decided to take himself out of the race. He couldn't juggle girls and leadership, not when it had come so suddenly. He was ill-prepared for his new task as leader and chasing skirts would only be trouble. That didn't mean he still didn't feel a little something when he saw Angela doting on Broadway. But Brooklyn did his best to bottle it all up.

Lexington eventually dropped out too. When it became clear he didn't have what it took to comfort Angela, he did the dignified thing and gave up too. He later confessed to Brooklyn that he couldn't do it. "I feel like I can't be around her anymore. I'm too scared, always thinking I'll say the wrong thing…"

They all had inwardly decided Angela deserved a compassionate heart, not a beaked-face gargoyle with personal problems and a little green guy too afraid of screwing up all the time.

Face it, Angela needed all the help she could get. The crater left by Goliath's absence was nowhere more obvious than in her. But the pain was clear in all of them. Oh, sure, they went on with life, but it was like fate went wrong at one point.

_We're like a car that blew a tire or tourists who've lost our way home. Now we're just hanging around, staring at each other, the center which bound our clan together all but gone. Center less, without anything to give us focus. There's always me but honestly… I'm no guide. I'm no light._

But there he was. Fair or not, he was the chosen one to pick up the loose stings, tie them up the best he could and move on. And the first thing he had to do was put some order back in the house. Give the clan some stability so that they could keep walking, limping if they had to.

And the first thing he had to do was deal with Elisa.

It was so that when the clan split to go on patrol, he decided to stay here tonight. He said that he would wait for Elisa, and though the rest of the guys shared some dubious stares, they accepted his judgment and took off. Only Hudson hesitated some more.

            "Ye sure ye don' want me around, lad?" the old man asked.

            "Hey, I can handle it. What kind of a leader would I be if I let Elisa go rampant and declare war on Xanatos? She's part of the clan, you know…" The unofficial widow of the former leader, to make it worse.

            Hudson gave him a confident smile and patted his shoulder. "You'll do find, lad. And I'm sure Elisa will be fine. I bet the lass just needed ta vent."

            "Yeah. But I still want to know what's going on at Xanatos'." Brooklyn confided, "Knowing our luck, his business always ends up connected to our own in some bizarre way. Just another way of saying human business is gargoyle business. Or eventually _becomes our business."_

Satisfied, Hudson went on to join the others. Hudson's advise were precious gems to him, but Brooklyn felt he needed to learn this stuff on his own. No matter how unfair it was.

_I, too, want to go out there and stick to protecting. I want to have a relationship with Angela, I want to hang out with Lex, I want to fight over popcorn with Broadway, I want this to be somebody else's problem. This whole Broadway and Angela thing totally pisses me off sometimes, but I can't do anything about. I admit it. I get raving jealous sometimes. But that has to be done and over with. You do what you gotta do, right?_

*                           *                              *

Elisa showed up later that night, sooner that he had expected. He was a bit surprised. He thought she would still be uncommunicative. So either she had a sudden change of heart or something was up. Knowing his luck, it was probably the latter.

Dealing with the informal widow had been a daunting task. How not to say the wrong thing? When Lex told him he didn't know how to deal with Angela, he totally understood. Women had a way with grief. It was like another piece of clothing. Like a purse or a blouse that they always wear. Like a tattoo on their foreheads spelling 'Don't. Just Don't'.

At least Elisa looked preoccupied with other things this time. Instead of wearing her _I'm-knee-deep-on-personal-problems face, she had the generalized and unmistakable _We're___-in-deep-shit-and-I'm-speaking-in-plurals face. Matt was with her, and his expression gave Brooklyn no comfort._

            "Brooklyn…" she began, "Sorry I haven't dropped by these last couple of nights, but…" she sighed, "…it's been hectic."

            " 'Hectic' ?" Brooklyn repeated incredulous. 

            "Yeah," Matt spoke up, while giving Elisa look, "Between Elisa butting heads with Xanatos and a guy preaching that the end of the world is coming, who has time for gargoyles…?"

            "You two are at it again?" Brooklyn replied, not one bit surprised.

            "He was being a jerk again," Elisa complained, "I was informing him about the killer…"

            "The killer?" Brooklyn repeated.

            "… and he didn't appreciate the information. Thinks because Owen's crawled back to him it gives him an edge over me, the bastard…"

            "_Owen?" Brooklyn repeated yet again. "What does he have to do with anything? Elisa, you're speaking Chinese to me…and what's with the look of doom on your face? The one that I don't think has anything to do with Xanatos." His eyes wandered from Elisa to Matt. "What happened?"_

            "Gee, are we that obvious?" Matt replied, trying to take it all with good humor. "Don't worry, the world isn't about to end. Although the guy we met would certainly debate that point."

            "Sit down, Brooklyn," Elisa said with a sigh, "This is going to take awhile."

Explain they did. Three nights ago, Celine Brault, the woman in charge of security for the Eerie Building had been brutally murdered in her home. That much Brooklyn knew. What he didn't know was that just this morning; they found a man using her credit card. The same man that appeared on the woman's apartment on the night of the murder.

            "So? What's the problem?"

            "We're getting there," said Elisa.

The problem with the man was that claimed to deliberately let himself be caught, so that he could meet Detective Maza and later her elite circle of friends.

            "The clan?!" Brooklyn exclaimed shocked, "He knows about the clan!?"

            "And Xanatos and Owen and Titania," Matt corrected. "And it gets better."

            "He says that he's looking for someone." Elisa went on, "A key, he calls it. And he's under the impression this key person is among us. So that's why he wants to meet us. To smoke out his destroyer."

            Brooklyn's eyes widened. "Oh, and now we have a 'destroyer'? Mind explaining that bit?"

            "Well, our mystery man hasn't exactly been forthcoming with his information." Matt explained, "He refuses to tell us his name."

            "He says that the end of… I don't know… Everything, I guess…is coming." Elisa said, indicating with her tone that she was skeptical about that. "He says that this key will 'choose who lives and dies' and that he… or, heck, she… was sent by Titania herself. Not only that, but that Titania is also dead."

            "Oh, this _is_ good," Brooklyn chuckled, "Go on!"

            "Oh, yeah, stuff of soap operas," Elisa concurred, "Now, normally, I'd book and cook this man and have nice men dressed in white take him away. The only reason I'm playing along with his outrageousness it's because he happened to know the clan and that Owen Burnett was back in town." She said the last bit with a heavy degree of sarcasm. "Oh, yes. 'Cuz Owen is back. Xanatos happened to confirm it."

            "Mystery Man knows a lot." Brooklyn muttered.

            "Mystery Man is a hoot," Matt added, "Got the ego of a Hollywood diva. But still, he knows a _lot_. He must be some kind of mind reader, 'cuz he can dig up any fact of your life and tell it to your face. Among his claims, he says he knows 'everything'."

            "Not everything, Matt," Elisa teasingly corrected, "Past, present, but never the future." Then she sobered up. "Still, anyone that claims to be sent by Titania and say she's dead while Oberon's black sheep is released from Avalon deserves some of our attention. The coincidence is just too creepy."

            Brooklyn let out a long, heartfelt whistle. "And he knows about the clan too. You're right, this _is_ creepy. It means that something is up in Avalon and that's never good. Worse, he knows all the dirty secrets of the weird and powerful of New York."

            "Did we mention he wants to meet the clan, Xanatos and Owen? Because he does," Matt pointed out.

            "What are we going to do, Brooklyn?"

Brooklyn blinked. He had momentarily forgotten he was the gargoyle in charge. Great, now what?

He tried to think what Goliath would do. Common sense. He'd use his common sense. And he'd want to get to the bottom of this.

            "Where is this guy?" he asked.

            "Waiting in his cell," Elisa replied, "We had to raise a fuss to keep him in this precinct. That's another thing: he definitely killed that woman. He says he'll help us against this key destroyer thing, but he's a cold-blooded killer himself. He's up to something, I _know_ it. Chavez is anxious to officially book him. If we have our big meeting, it has to be soon."

            "Right. What about Xanatos? Is he willing to play ball?"

            "More or less, yes. But Xanatos is Xanatos." Elisa grunted, not very pleased, "And he has Owen by his side, which no doubt got him precious information on what the hell is going on in Avalon."

            "Which Mr. Burnett may or may not be happy to disclose," Matt added.

            Brooklyn considered his options. Actually, he only had one option. He looked at Elisa and said, "What about you? Willing to behave?"

            Elisa took a deep breath. "I called him… informed him on what happened…things were spoken…"

            "… and insults were exchanged…" Matt interrupted, and got Elisa's glare as a response.

            "Elisa, you _can't_ go on pissing him off!" Brooklyn exclaimed, "Look, you don't have to get along, but you can act civilized. This stupid little war is just going to backlash against you and all of us."

            Elisa let out a surprised and absurd laugh. "Brooklyn, why are we even _having_ this conversation? Xanatos is our _enemy_. Why am I the only one in the clan who sees that hasn't _changed? Why are you defending the guy who got Goliath killed!?"_

            "He didn't _exactly_ have him killed, you know…" Brooklyn said icily, "And I am not defending him. All I'm saying is that your little feud is reaching a new level of absurdity and that's _got_ to stop."

            "What!?" Elisa snapped in return, "Just 'cuz his father-in-law is a psychopath I have to feel **_sorry_ for him!? I don't exactly recall him shedding waterfalls of tears over my brother, whose life was completely and utterly ruined! And I don't exactly remember him sniffing when Demona turned the city to stone and had a little fun with her sledgehammer! I consider myself a reasonable person, but you can't expect me to feel sorry for the likes of _him_!"**

            "I don't expect you to feel sorry, all right!?" Brooklyn snapped back, "I only want you to stay out of his way and avoid more problems! And if you're _right_… that this Mystery Man has something up his sleeve for all of us… we may need Xanatos' cooperation. And I don't think he'll cooperate if you keep tongue-lashing him!"

            "Who says we _need_ him? We can handle this all by ourselves!"

            "Mystery Man said that he wanted all of us," Matt pointed out, "Xanatos and Owen were part of it."

            "Oh, screw this!" the detective barked, "If _they're going to that stupid meeting, then __I'm not going!"_

            Matt sighed disgusted, "Oh, that's _real_ childish, Elisa! The guy doesn't need you anyway, he already tested us. Neither one of us is the destroyer, whatever the hell that means, so we're not really needed down there."

            Elisa turned around to face him, "So, Matt, you're against me too!? Is that it!? You're taking _his_ side?"

            "I'm not taking sides, I'm just pointing out a fact—"

            "You know what? Don't _bother_." She snarled in return as she spun around and started to walk away.

Brooklyn moaned loudly. "Elisa, don't be like this…"

And Elisa did halt and turned to face them, this time so enraged and so heartbroken, that tears were forming and her voice started to break. "Can't you see!?" she said, her voice uneven as she spoke, "I lost the man I love before I even knew what it meant to love! Our love was struck in the middle, just when it was beginning to mature, and now that it's gone, I _see_! _I see, I understand! There will be **_no other_! Our fate, our fate that we were cheated out, was sealed the moment I fell off the castle's edge almost two years ago!" Her tone changed into a more absurd one, "And you want me to sympathize with the one who caused his ******__death?! That's _bullshit_, Brooklyn! That's more forgiveness than my heart and soul can give! If you know I can't give it, _then why the hell do you ask!?_"_

The two astounded males had nothing to respond and all was silent for a moment. And Elisa let out a disgusted sigh and disappeared down the stairs.

And Brooklyn cursed himself. He had never felt so worthless before. He froze and just stood there, wallowing in his incompetence.

            "Should I go after her?" Matt whispered, "She's in the police station, and since you can't go there—"

            "Leave her alone…" Brooklyn croaked. "With or without her, tell Mystery Man yes, he'll get his meeting. Tomorrow night."

            "Tomorrow night?" Matt interrupted, "Why tomorrow?"

            " 'Cuz we're grilling Owen Burnett with questions tonight," Brooklyn replied, "Like it or not, this is Avalon business too. I want to get an insider's take in all of this. No doubt in my mind the giant Smurf is up to something, if Titania is really dead and Puck is back. And Xanatos, well, there's no shaking him off."

            "What about…?"

            "Let her cool off. I'm sure she'll… she'll cool off by tomorrow night." Brooklyn replied, "Matt, just go home and take a nap. I'll let you know what I find out. I'll rally up the troops and go to the castle. They need to know what's up."

And that was that. Elisa stormed off and Matt went home. Brooklyn took charge of this little crisis. "I'm sure you'll do fine," Matt said before he left, "Just fine."

Like that, he was gone.

Brooklyn took a five minute breather to fully process what just happened. He tried to think of all possible angles, all possible course of actions he could've taken. None came to mind.

_I understand you, Elisa. But I also understand him. And it doesn't justify what you're trying to do…_

Truth to tell, he didn't know what to make of Xanatos anymore. He felt sort of sorry for him, but he was aware the millionaire could act like a real bastard sometimes. His crimes against the clan were a reminder he wasn't a big, lovable teddy bear and his past Machiavellian schemes made it hard to sympathize with him.

At least he had been gracious enough to leave them alone for the last couple of months. The clan left him alone, he left the clan alone and all was well in the world.

If fact, sometimes it struck him like Xanatos was purposely trying to avoid them. But Brooklyn wasn't sure that was a good thing after all.

_Good thing or not, he's not even a problem anymore. Dammit, Elisa, you're being too hard on him. And on yourself. If you'd only let it go… if you only backed away…_

He knew the depths of her depression ever since Goliath died, but what could he _do_ about it? It's not like he could fix it or make it better. There were no solutions this time. There was nothing he could glue together. It was just… out of his league. He could do nothing, absolutely nothing, about Elisa. 

He remembered Goliath's remembrance ceremony. Elisa stood there, immovable, untouchable. He had wanted to say something then, but she was on pedestal and nobody dared disturb her. Her grief had that sacred aura around it. Their grief seemed mundane compared to hers. Trying to talk to her… was unthinkable. A sacrilege.

It would be no exaggeration or figure of speech to say that back then, when Goliath's earthy remains were set on fire and the smoke rose up to the stars, Elisa Maza was the saddest woman on this green earth.

It was at that moment when Brooklyn, hell, the entire clan understood a great injustice had been done to them. Elisa's grief was sanctified and that had been a divine revelation.

None of them knew how to make it better. So they decided just to… forget it and forge ahead. It was the only thing they _could_ do at the moment.

There was a more tangible problem ahead with Mystery Man. That, he could handle. As much as it pained Brooklyn, he didn't have the skill or time to deal with Elisa right now. Better handle the problems he could resolve.

_I hate casting you aside…but what else can I do for the moment?_

He shook his head. He had things to do and the clock was ticking.

The first thing he had to do was get his act together and go visit the castle. He remembered the fiasco back when Goliath and Elisa went on the World Tour, and how the clan and Talon had charged to Xanatos' place demanding answers. All they did was inform Xanatos of the situation, making things worse.

Having learned from that experience, he had to go there with a game plan. No gung-ho attitudes. Sure, Xanatos had sort of mellowed out since his wife died, but no need to give him another chance to play with his defense systems.

So, in the spirit of non-confrontation, he made a mental list of questions he would ask Xanatos. Freaking out on him would not help. The things he had to ask him were: A) who was the key? B) what's it for? C) what's the deal with Titania? D) what the hell is going on?

"Story of my life…" he muttered.

*                        *                           *

Half an hour later, the clan had returned from patrol and Brooklyn gave them the happy news. He neglected to mention the thing with Elisa. It didn't seem… necessary. 

"She just went home to sleep…" he said when Hudson asked. Brooklyn felt that the old man didn't quite believe him.

As for the rest of the story, it left the guys more than a little perplexed.

            Lexington was among the first ones to speak. "Right…nothing like the end of the world first thing in the night…"

            "Are we really going to meet this person?" Angela spoke up, unconsciously holding onto Broadway's arm. She was always hanging around Broadway, no matter what.

            "Doesn't seem like we have a lot of options, honestly," Brooklyn told all of them. "I still want to know how he learned about our little clique of cops, monsters and multimillionaires. And I bet Puck knows a lot of this."

            "Alright, then, let's not dawdle…" Hudson spoke up. "The faster we get this on, the better."

Broadway, who had so far being quiet, suddenly spoke, "There's something that doesn't add up. Why did he kill the woman to get Elisa's attention? Why not simply go to her desk?"

            "Elisa said the guy was a creep. Which makes the fact that he knows about all of us even more disturbing," Brooklyn said.

            Broadway emphatically shook his head. "No, no… I mean, yes, he sounds like a creep, but Elisa also said he was up to something. Think about it. The woman worked in _security_. Eerie Building's security. Why security?"

            "What are you getting at?" a concerned Angela inquired.

            "Dunno," Broadway said, his eyes still lost in thought, "Not yet."

That conversation all but forgotten, the clan took off to Eerie Building.

In the journey, Brooklyn's mind began to clear. He was a gargoyle of action, and the emotional problems of his clan had left him befuddled. At least this was a welcomed distraction from Elisa's problems.

More importantly, it gave both the clan and its leader something to do, a mystery to tackle. A chance to energize the clan. Give them a new sense of center. Give Brooklyn a center for himself. And an opportunity to make things… make things _right_.

_I don't know if I'm being selfish, but I feel this buzz. This buzz of when I'm about to tackle something important. I missed that. And sure, I feel this emptiness inside, and I'm still sick with worry over Elisa, but I also feel this thing…_

_The wind tonight is telling me that while things have been bleak lately, it will get better. Weird. Totally weird._

_The little voices are whispering to me. And they say that something is coming and it's going to change our lives…_

In the end, Brooklyn was a good gargoyle. Like his predecessor, he only wanted the best for his people. Like so, he led his people back to the castle of destiny, with the warm conviction and the complete confidence that this had long ago been written up there in the stars.

PART TWO

Mozart was blasting through his CD player at earsplitting volumes. The thought that he could go deaf left as quickly as it came. He cranked up the earphones some more.

Lying back on the beach chair he found around, Owen Burnet was fondly admiring the blue waters of the swimming pool in front of him while occasionally taking a sip of wine of the elegant glass next to him.

He had no intention of moving anywhere tonight. He was wearing his favorite white shirt with his sleeves rolled up and black pants ensemble, hoping to get a little drunk with a little dignity.

It was very nice, this place. It was the indoor garden, which was really a euphemism for the small tropical forest Xanatos had. Since the castle was deserted nowadays, he could have this little piece of Heaven for himself.

He closed his eyes and fast forwarded the CD to number twelve, his favorite on that particular record. He started to doze off.

Then someone delicately took off his earphones. Owen opened his eyes and looked up to meet David Xanatos'.

            "That's not nice…" Xanatos said, "…drifting off into your private little world."

            To Owen, his face looked backwards. He turned off his CD player and said, "What is it?"

            Xanatos moved and sat on the ground next to him. "Did you mean it?"

            "Mean what?"

            "What you said about not working for me anymore."

            "Hmm." Owen leaned back on his chair and closed his eyes. "Do you really think you're paying for your sins? That I'm leaving as punishment for everything you did or stop doing?"

            "Isn't it?"

            "Are you really that anxious to know?"

            "Yes. I like for people to give it to me straight. I hate guessing people's intentions. Especially yours. I can never guess yours."

            "Ah, the Xanatos approach." Owen replied, taking another sip of his red wine. He put it down and said, "Well, maybe we're both at fault. Maybe we'll both get punished for our sins."

            "How so?"

            Owen tried to come up with a decent explanation. "Oberon…" he said slowly, "…for some obscure reason unknown to me… somehow got it in his head that I may know where Titania is… The truth is that I have no idea. But Oberon doesn't compromise. He _commands_… It's not like I could explain it to him. It's not like I wanted to stay anyway… so… I took a chance. Talked him into giving up the kid… reminded him it's pointless to keep him with Titania gone… thinking that even if I was dragged back, he wouldn't want to drag the child with me… Will it work? Time will tell."

            "You never believed you were going to stay."

            He shook his head, "No. Not really. I did have some glimmer of hope that you might be capable of helping me, but then I came back to my senses."

            "I won't let you go."

            "And what's your plan? Need I remind you that you lost last time?"

            "We'll figure it out."

            Beside himself, Owen couldn't help but smile. "You know, I had a dream the other night. You had actually won. Fox was alive and Goliath was alive and I was here and Alex was here. I was mildly sad for some reason. In the dream, I mean. And I wanted to say to him, the me in the dream, 'oh, if you only knew…' "

            "Stop it."

            "Stop what?"

            "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. This time is going to be different. This time, _we're going to win."_

            "My, aren't you confident…"

            "No. Seriously," Xanatos said, sounding very sure of himself, "We're going to win. I don't know, but all my senses are telling me we're going to win this time around."

            "Titania is missing. And Oberon is going to be upset, _very upset, if I don't get her back."_

            "How upset is upset?"

            Owen couldn't help but grin. "I think he actually sat in a corner and cried like a five year old child."

            Xanatos chuckled delighted. "_Oberon_? Sobbing like an idiot?"

            "Yes. Because he killed Titania's daughter and she would never forgive him."

            Xanatos' smile waned. He leaned his head against Owen's chair and admired the pool too. "What was that like?"

            "It's strange. For all of Oberon's irritating attitudes, he actually does love her. That may be the only true thing about him. Sure, he cheats on her every chance he gets, but he also loves her. He looks down on humans, but he loves her like one. Humanity burns bright and hot. You burn yourselves out before a century is out. We fey are starlight. You call us fickle, and that we are, because when we give in, when we burn like humans, heh," he laughed softly without amusement to himself. "But the fey don't have the option to burn out. For a fey to love like that… it's too much. I can't explain it any other way."

            "Then don't. Tell me more about what happened."

            "With the Fox business? It turns out killing Fox or Goliath was not part of the plan. Titania only wanted Alex. She expected some resistance, but not one the likes of ours. Remember that Oberon loves her. Insanely, might I add. She underestimated his love for her. She didn't know he was capable of killing to make her happy."

            "Fox was in the way, so…"

            "Precisely. So imagine Oberon's bewilderment when Titania announced she loathed him and never wanted to see him again. Oberon couldn't see what was wrong with the picture. He gave her the child, didn't he?"

            "It's pathetic," Xanatos said, "It doesn't make any sense."

            "My kind hardly makes sense, Mr. Xanatos. I thought you knew that."

            "Where do you fit in all of this?"

            "Me?"

Owen didn't reply. He picked up his glass and noticed it empty. "I'm out of wine. I'll be right back."

But when he was about to stand up, Xanatos grabbed him by the arm and forced him back down. "Don't walk out on me before you answer. Where do _you_ fit in all of this?"

Owen gave him that look and settled back down. Staring into space, he said quietly, "I guess you could say I was Titania's crying shoulder." He gave Xanatos a look. Understanding that that explication wouldn't do, he sighed. He really didn't want to explain, but…

"I don't even remember. I was dragged off to the dungeons, I know that much. And every once in a while, Titania dropped by to tell me how very sorry she was. She talked to me a lot, even though half the time I wasn't listening. But I do remember her saying that it was unfair. That this wasn't right. And that she was going to make it right, no matter what."

"No matter what…" Xanatos absentmindedly repeated, "…which means?"

"Taking her case to whatever gods are out there, perhaps. I don't know. You should've seen her… she was so _upset. She must've lost her mind already with the grief. Honestly, I've never seen a sinner repent the way she has. It was unnatural. Terrifying, even. She said she would make it right, no matter what. It's a big 'what'. That's why I fear she might be doing something stupid and dangerous."_

Xanatos let the words sink into his mind. Pondering the situation, he thought he understood all the implications —both spoken and unspoken— of Owen's words. But he still came upon the same conclusion.

"Well, it doesn't matter if Titania has gone flipping crazy and Oberon has been reduced to a lovesick puppy. That doesn't have anything to do with you and me. You're staying with me and Alex. I don't care how much Oberon bitches and whines about it, you're staying anyway."

The blond looked at him. Surely, Xanatos knew he didn't stand a chance. But his determination reassured and calmed him somehow. And it was a pleasant feeling.

He allowed himself a little smile, "That's good to hear, Mr. Xanatos."

It wasn't exactly what the millionaire wanted to hear. He was half-tempted to grab Owen by the shoulders and tell him what he wanted to say, tell him the precise reason why he shouldn't be feeling sorry for himself, tell him why he was needed here and why he should never go away.

The hell with telling him. He'd show him.

He had just reached out for a surprisingly willing Owen and pulled him towards him when the castle alarm blared. It made both men jump away from each other in the startle.

Boom. The opportunity was gone.

*                      *                         *

When Brooklyn charged into the main hall, he had a sudden flashback of all the times Goliath had done the very same thing, only to meet Owen Burnett, who almost always sent them back out, right towards Xanatos' game board.

In fact, the clan had come in so many times blaming Xanatos for crimes both real and imaginary, it had become pointless after a while. Owen would always deflect all their questions and politely kick them out.

Tonight, Brooklyn was the leader of the pack. He sucked in his gut and got ready for all the diffuse answers and half-truths he'd hear tonight. Mournful widower or not, Xanatos was not going to make it easy, that much was true.

Without needing to be told they could feel right at home, the clan made their way to Xanatos' office like they owned the castle. Which, in a way, they did, but no use bringing that old skeleton out.

Trust Xanatos to quickly get into character. He was sitting behind his big old black desk with that unmistakable 'Mr. Burns' position. Owen was quietly standing by his side.

"Brooklyn!" The millionaire cheerfully said, "I didn't expect you to see you here tonight. Please, take a seat. What's the occasion for tonight's visit? Business or pleasure?"

"I'll have to say business." Brooklyn replied. He didn't take a seat, but only for the sake of looking tough. Elisa had already promised this would be a long night, so he might have to have seat later.

As for the rest of the guys, Angela was hanging all over Broadway, Lexington took a step forward, taking great interest in the whole situation, and Hudson was quietly standing by a corner, arms crossed, probably ready to spend this night as an spectator. He would let Brooklyn take the center stage.

            "Business?" Xanatos continued, "What sort of business?"

            "About the killer of your security gal."

            "You know about that? News travels fast."

            "It's a small Manhattan after all," Brooklyn retorted. "You do know this killer knows about the clan, you and pretty much all of the all-powerful weirdoes that ever happened to step into this castle."

            "What can I say? Everybody _loves_ Eerie Building."

            "And he also wants to meet with the clan, you and Owen."

            "He does? Elisa neglected to inform me this morning, probably because she was so busy trying to come up with good insults," the millionaire replied. "Well, I'm in. I'll go to that meeting. I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do."

            "Glad we have settled that so quickly," Brooklyn went on, "Now what I really want to know is the deal with Titania."

The question knocked Xanatos out of base and totally surprised Owen, who had been silent so far. "What _about Titania?" the blond asked._

"Well, according to Mystery Man, she's dead. That's the problem. Which doesn't make sense, because she's safe in Avalon…" he shot that comment to Owen in particular, "…right?"

All gargoyle eyes focused on Owen Burnett. He courageously got a grip on himself. "No, she's not. That's why I'm here. Oberon sent me to look for Titania, only I have no clue where she is." A pause. "What do you mean, she's dead?"

Brooklyn blinked. Apparently, these two didn't know that. "It's Mystery Man who says she's dead. Judging from those terrorized expressions on your faces, I take it you two didn't expect to hear that…"

Now Brooklyn took the seat. He accommodated himself in the comfortable chairs in front of Xanatos' desk and crossed his arms. "So," he continued, "Wanna talk about it?"

Xanatos scratched the back of his head in obvious disgust while Owen leaned against the wall of glass, his mind drifting somewhere for a moment. To Brooklyn, he looked completely spaced out.

            "The truth is that we don't know," the millionaire explained, "The last thing she told Owen, back in Avalon, was that she was going to make things right."

            "Make what right?"

            "I have no idea…" Xanatos replied, "But what we do know is that she disappeared from Avalon and nobody has seen her since. Like Owen said, he's here to bring her back, which is impossible, because we have no clue as to where on Earth she might be. But," he paused for a moment, "if your 'Mystery Man' says she's dead…"

            "We have to talk to him," Owen interrupted, as he looked up from the carpet, "It's imperative that we talk to him. He might be the emissary she was talking about."

            "Whoa! Slow down, buckaroo," Brooklyn spoke up, "Destroyers and now emissaries? Damn, this just gets better and better."

            "Destroyers?" Xanatos perked up.

            "Long story. You first."

            Xanatos and assistant exchanged looks. "Well," the millionaire began, "before disappearing, Titania told the Puck that she would send an emissary. A messenger. No idea of what the message might be."

            "Maybe the message is that the key is coming," Lexington interrupted for the first time. "That's what Elisa says. The guy told her he was here to stop the key person and save the world."

            "And now we're saving the world?" Brooklyn sighed. "Not our week, is it?"

            Angela's eyes widened, "Save the world? _Again?"_

At once, all order broke down and all of them started speaking at once. They had all come to the realization they were over their heads at the same second and if they weren't worried before, they were _now_.

Hudson, the benevolent spectator, took that opportunity to intercede. "All right, all right, pipe down, lads!" he exclaimed as the bickering slowed down, "It seems that something is brewing in the pot. And just our luck, we're in the middle of de mess. What are we goin' to do about it?"

            Owen crossed his arms and said, with his trademarked disapproving expression, "That's ridiculous. Lady Titania would never 'destroy the world'."

            "Well, I don't know. You did say she was mentally disturbed over what happened…" Xanatos replied.

            Owen gave him a murderous look. "You mean to tell me she's gone insane?"

            Lexington gasped, "The Queen is insane!?"

            "The Queen is _not_ insane," Owen said acidly, "Haven't you been listening?"

            "Hey, maybe this emissary person is lying," Broadway proposed, "Why would he murder Xanatos' employee to get to us?"

            "Right. Why not make an appointment?" Brooklyn sarcastically replied.

            Angela turned to Xanatos, "When you say 'mentally disturbed', what do you mean?"

            "She was upset over the fiasco in Alex's kidnapping. Now, Owen, don't give me that look, you said so yourself fifteen minutes ago," Xanatos said, noticing Owen's expression.

            "That was different—"

            "Alright, so let's say Titania's gone nuts…" Lexington began.

            "She's not!" Owen interrupted, "Titania wouldn't do something like that. She wants the best for us."

            "Maybe she thinks the best is taking us out of our misery, ever thought about that?" Lexington snapped back.

            "Shut up, you two!" Brooklyn barked, and got homicidal looks from the both of them in return that actually made him gulp. "Eh, anyway… it's clear that's Titania's behind Mystery Man's appearance, but the real question is: what is she up to?"

            "And, you know, Owen's right," Angela continued, "Lady Titania is not the type that's out there to kill us all."

            Broadway, of all people, was the one who sighed exasperated, "Isn't it obvious this emissary is lying? It's clear that all he's told Elisa is half-truths. He _did murder that woman, remember that."_

            "But why would Titania send us a killer?" Angela interjected.

            "Maybe she didn't know he was a killer. If she's dead, maybe he killed her," Xanatos pointed out.

            "That can't be true," Owen mumbled, "Titania's too smart for that."

            Xanatos shook his head in disgust, "Owen, what the _hell are you doing defending her? After all she did to us?"_

            "She said she was sorry…"

            "Sorry, my ass!" Xanatos snapped, "She practically murdered my wife and Goliath! And then she took Alex and you away!"

Much to the bewilderment of everybody else in that office, Xanatos and Owen began to bicker about it. Brooklyn rolled his eyes. _I don't have time for this!_

"Be quiet, you two!" Brooklyn exclaimed, "Obviously, we can't jump to conclusions so early in the game. Now, tomorrow night, we're going meet Mystery Man in the Cloisters. It's neutral ground, far away from people and we can have our conversation there. We can ask him everything we want and hopefully, we'll know what's going on."

"That won't work."

All eyes turned to Broadway. The clan's new second in command took a step forwards. "I've been keeping tabs on this case ever since that lady got murdered. You know me, I'm a detective buff. And it's obvious to me we will never get an answer from that guy. Don't you see? He didn't have to murder her. There were always other ways to get our attention. And no decent killer would use her credit card on a five star hotel. He _wanted_ to be caught."

            "Where are you getting at?" Hudson asked from his corner.

            "It means that we're playing a game. _His game. He may be an emissary, but he's looking for the key person with less than honorable intentions," Broadway continued, "If Titania really wants to help us with the key, and he wants to kill the key, what does that tell you?"_

            "He's here to screw us," Xanatos replied with a sense of wonderment. Then a cloud crossed his eyes, "Wait, wait… the police said he stole personnel files. Why would he do that? Thankfully, it was the old personnel files, but still…"

            "Because he's looking for the key…" Broadway began to mutter, "He's looking for the key…in the _castle_."

            "Elisa said he didn't know who it was," Angela also added, "But he _did know Owen was back."_

            Everybody turned to Owen. He stared back with surprise. "What?"

            Brooklyn crossed his arms and smirked, "Owen, I'm beginning to think _you might be the key."_

            Owen blinked several times. He snorted in contempt. "I think I would _know if I was."_

            Angela, however, was nodding in approval. "Elisa said the guy suspected _you, Owen. So you could be him and not even know it. In fact, she said that the whole purpose of the meeting was to smoke out the key person. The guy knows it's amongst us, and while you're the likeliest suspect, he wants to check all of us."_

For a moment, all was silence. The solemnity of it all was broken with one last comment from Owen. "I still think it's ridiculous."

"Don't worry. We'll find out for sure tomorrow night," Brooklyn replied, "But just in case," he told Owen, "don't leave town."

He only got a hard stare in return.

*                           *                              *

Well. That was disturbing.

After the gargoyles went on their merry way, Xanatos and Owen once more had the castle to themselves.

            Owen, for one, was unusually quiet after they left. Xanatos could more or less figure out what he was thinking. "You don't believe you're the key, right?"

            "No. No, I don't," he replied. "You were saying that he stole the old personnel files, correct? The ones where I'm still listed as an employee?"

            "That's right."

            "He knows about Puck. He knows I have magic. Naturally, he assumes I must be the key."

            "That's right. You also told me you don't remember your stay in Avalon very well. Who knows? Maybe it's you." Owen looked at him, but said nothing. "What?" Xanatos added, "You've got someone else in your mind?"

            "I don't know what to think. But Broadway is correct about one thing: the answer is in the old files. You don't mind if I talk to Bruno about the contents of those files, right, Mr. Xanatos?"

            "Go ahead. But frankly, I don't know who else it could be."

            "Actually," Owen whispered in reply, "…I can't believe he missed him…"

But Xanatos didn't hear that. He was considering asking him to stick around for a little longer. It was nearly midnight and both of them were dead tired. But…

Owen began muttering something about going to sleep. And before he disappeared down the hallway, Xanatos seized the opportunity to say something. For once, he didn't want to be left hanging in the middle of a sentence or the middle of a…

"Are you really going to sleep? Night's young… mind staying for a little while? Look through those files together?"

The blond stopped dead in his tracks and blinked in the startle. But he considered his options, now that the castle was empty and the gargoyles were long gone. 

Owen ended up shrugging casually with the look of someone that didn't appear to be expecting anything, even though it was a half-truth, at best. "As you wish, sir."

PART THREE

**_That Afternoon_**

Soon enough, the papers that once had been glued to his living room's walls were reduced to several neat stacks in his dinning table.

It was around one in the afternoon when Dennis finished organizing the notebook pages. Damn his compulsion for neatness: he had actually stacked them according to language.

The necessity to go to work was ever present in his mind. But this wasn't a normal, 'jeez, I got to work for a living' preoccupation. This was a 'figure out what's going on before I go insane' one.

After all, it wasn't everyday that you wrote something in a notebook and the notebook wrote something back. He considered it must've been a poltergeist, like in that movie with the cute blonde little girl and a TV. Maybe ghosts don't limit themselves with screwing with your cable, maybe they screw with your books too. He tried surfing the internet for information and all he got was an X-Files webpage with 'I WANT TO BELIEVE' in big white letters.

In a way, it was fitting. All his knowledge of the occult came from watching the X-Files, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and occasionally, Dr. Who. It was kind of pathetic.

It was so absurd that he still couldn't quite believe it, even though the stack of papers was on his dinner table. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around the concept, much less accept it wholeheartedly.

His initial reaction was to think that it had finally happened: he'd just had a nervous breakdown. The problem was that he didn't feel nervous. It felt, in fact, somewhat natural, as if blanking out for a couple of hours and writing poems in twenty different languages was accepted behavior.

His reasoning, then, went something like this:

"Suppose I _have been visited by demons these last few days, and I'm not saying I am, and this is all hypothetical, because if that was true, you'd expect a demon-possessed guy to be… not like me. I mean, really, since when do demons surf the internet? And I don't feel particularly diabolic either. But do possessed people know they're possessed? How do you know? I don't feel horns in my head, and other from the creepy papers in the bedroom, I feel perfectly fine. Do demon-possessed people actually wander about being possessed? It's sort of like that Star Trek movie… why does God need a spaceship? Or in this case, why does the devil need me?"_

Or maybe he was just crazy. But he didn't feel particularly crazy either. He felt he was quite sane. But that was the same question from before: do crazy people know they're crazy? Do they stop for a moment and say, 'man, I am really fucked up'? If he had indeed gone insane, would he be asking those questions?

Since it was decided that going crazy or being possessed was supposed to be a more fancy affair, there was a third option: that it wasn't his fault.

If anything, it was somehow Xanatos' fault.

Rather than blaming ghosts, it was more reasonable to think the microwave lasagna had been laced with LSD and while he was having that psychedelic mind-trip, someone sneaked into his apartment and pasted all those papers in the bedroom. 

Of course, that explanation didn't make much sense either. He would have to ask why they did it to him of all people. And he would have to ask interminable questions, like how they poisoned the food, got a key to the apartment and had the patience to glue those papers one by one.

Either way, there was no way to know for sure. Between demons, insanity and LSD, one thing was real: this had _something to do, he didn't know what, with working at Eerie Building._

As insecure as he was, it was the only thing he could stake his life on. Last night's events had their roots in that cursed castle, with those gargoyles in the video, and with the man who reappeared after three months missing.

As for the ghost  —if you could call it that— that claimed ownership of the papers, all he knew was that it called itself _'the one descended', knew ten languages, wrote in a pretty font and said that 'Titania' sent her love. _

He was pretty sure 'the one descended' and Titania weren't the same… thing. Yet he had a feeling that Titania was the one that had been intruding his dreams for some time, as crazy as that sounded. He recognized it now as the green lady, whom he had confused with Star Trek's belly dancer. Somehow, she was connected to Eerie Building and all who lived there.

_But how come I know that? Supposing that… ghost… is real, why the hell would it come to me? Think about it. What would a ghost or a demon or a millionaire want to do with _me_?_

To top it all off, there was the second ghost, the one that acted last night. He hadn't heard or felt anyone else until 'the one descended' played that cruel prank on him.

_Two spirits…? Is that possible there are _two_ spirits out there?_

As for the papers, well, those were weirder. All of them were a poem. The exact same poem. In all the papers he found, the very same poem was replicated in different languages. It was asking the gods for forgiveness and a second chance. Weird.

"Poem or a song?" he muttered quietly, "I heard music…"

That was all the Dennis knew at that moment. Hopefully, he would get some answers from Xanatos. He knew, he just _knew_ he was in on this _somehow_. And if he was really lucky, he'd learn why this was happening to him of all people.

_I've never believed this sort of bullshit. UFOs, ghosts, gargoyles… Tiffany and Melquisedec love this sort of crap. Not me. I'm a faithless bastard, so why are miracles happening to me?_

Just yesterday, he couldn't imagine himself looking up websites on the paranormal. Even when Xanatos claimed stone statues came to life, he still believed in his heart it was some sort of hoax, and since he hadn't personally seen them, maybe there was still some logical explanation buried somewhere.

But nothing like a crash-course into the world of weirdness to make a self-proclaimed atheist start to worry about the occult.

Dennis, by nature, was a fairly logical person. And his logic dictated he had to get some new beliefs quick if he was to understand what happened to him. So, he swallowed his pride and more or less came to terms with the fact that weird things happening, knowing that if he kept mauling over the facts, everything would stop making sense and he'd think himself into knots.

Although he was person who still had serious doubts over those creatures who supposedly turned to stone during the day, that wasn't sure of what was going on, that he may or may not be going insane, that may or may not have two ghosts hanging around him, that was just learning how disturbing the occult world could be, he knew some things to be true…

His life had stopped being normal the instant he joined Xanatos Enterprises and that it wouldn't be normal ever again. And that he still didn't know why. Why it was happening. Why he should bother.

_But I have to bother… _he reasoned. _Because it won't let me go.__ Even if I quit and left town, something will drag me back, no matter how much I complain…_

Xanatos had it right the other day, when he revealed the existence of another world to Dennis. He had a right to know why his world was going to hell. But he knew Xanatos wasn't giving him the complete picture either and he was forced to finish the puzzle all by himself… even if Xanatos wouldn't cooperate, even though he didn't know how. 

*                          *                         *

He was mildly surprised when he wasn't yelled at when he got to the office. Then again, he had wisely ducked out of Tiffany's view. But when he got to the castle itself, Xanatos greeted him with open arms. Which was creepier than having him yell at Dennis.

            "Mr. Anderson, you took your sweet time getting here today!"  The millionaire said a good mood, "Were you sick or something?"

            "Yeah. That's one way to put it, yes."

            "Glad you're feeling better. Please, sit down, you and I have to talk."

Dennis did not like the sound of that, but sat down nonetheless. Xanatos settled behind his desk and handled him a yellow folder with a big grin on his face. Dennis warily opened it and noticed it was files accompanied by photographs of what could be best described as… cat-people.

            "Ever heard of Anton Sevarius?"

            "Anton 'Bane of Modern Medicine, Dr. Frankenstein Wanna-be' Sevarius? What about him?"

            "Ah. Glad you're acquainted with the good doctor's work…" Xanatos replied, ever so smoothly, "The file you're holding is information on one of the doctor's most secret and disturbing experiments: the mutates."

            Dennis found himself looking at the cat-people's photos. "What are these? Altered animals?"

            "No. Altered humans. They were human. Once."

            Dennis looked up amazed. "He mutated those people?" He lowered his eyes onto the paper and read some more. "He was working for Gen-U-Tech. He was working for _you_?" Yet another disturbing fact on David Xanatos. Dammit, they just kept coming and coming.

            Xanatos was having a hard time trying to explain it. "In one of the darkest moments of my life, I went ahead and… provided funding to Sevarius' experiments. These four mutates were once normal people with normal lives until they crossed paths with the doctor's mutagenic formula… Now I've realized the horrible mistake I've done and I'm seeking experts to try and reverse the mutations. And, Dennis, I want _you_ on the team."

            He was speechless. All the came out was a pathetic, "Me?"

            "Yes, you. To avoid curing them, Sevarius destroyed all information of the mutagenic formula that altered them. If they are to be cured, someone needs to retrace Sevarius' steps and experiments. Sevarius is a twisted bastard, but he's easily one of the smartest people alive. I'm gathering a team of experts, in hopes they are capable of figuring out what the hell Sevarius did to these people." He leaned forward in his seat. "Dennis, I'm more than aware of your talents. You're wasting your time here. Now, in Gen-U-Tech, you will get a hand-on experience in your expertise and work with the most brilliants minds in the planet. You have to, since you're going to be project director."

Dennis was one step short of jumping off the chair, bowing and kissing Xanatos' Armani shoes. But something fairly powerful held him back. So with the deepest regret in his heart, he had to say, "I'm sorry, Mr. Xanatos…I can't do this."

            "How come?" Xanatos asked, truly perplexed, "Because of Sevarius' bad reputation?"

            "No, that's not it at all!" He replied, "I'd love take this project, but…" _But what?__ Ghosts posses my body at night and you might be able to help me? I can't say that! So he said, "I like it here!"_

            Xanatos gave him a good-hearted chuckle. "Mr. Anderson, I'm very aware that you _hate this. I'm doing you a favor, really. Genetics is your field, not paperwork."_

            "Yeah, but…" Dennis began, "This is job is really growing on me and… and I made so many friends and all…"

            The boss mistook Dennis' dread with modesty, "Well, say exchange numbers with Tiffany and the guys. Transfer is effective next Monday. Mr. Burnett still needs a couple of days to get his affairs in order. Meanwhile, go downstairs and make yourself useful. I hear Tiffany wants your head on a silver platter for not showing up this morning."

Too much of a coward to tell him the unbiased truth, he nodded and accepted the job. At least he had until Monday to dig around a figure out what was happening.

He considered, for a moment, to tell Xanatos the truth. But after thinking about it, he thought it to be a stupid move. Either Xanatos would think he was utterly crazy, or he would have revealed his hand to a man that hired mad scientists and was enemies with gargoyles.

He remembered three days ago, when Detective Elisa Maza dropped by. Surely, her hatred for him had to have some sort of basis in reality.

His eyes wandered back into the folder he'd been given. Cat-people. Illegal and immoral scientific experiments. And what he said about the gargoyles…

The reality of it all hit him like a sledgehammer: there was a very real chance he was working for the bad guys. Sympathy over Xanatos only blinded him to what that cop could clearly see. These were not the good guys.

Then who could he trust?

And who said Xanatos wasn't the cause of all his woes?

Now more than ever, Dennis felt alone in the universe. He was almost sure that these people had something to do with the weirdness that had happened to him this week. But if he spoke, let them know he knew… what _next_?

Dennis considered himself a good guy. Sure, he had his moments of weakness, but he wasn't 'evil'. At least, he didn't think so. If anything, he was a very light gray.

As for Xanatos and Burnett… he wasn't sure. Dark gray, maybe. The stuff in the mutate folder and the things Detective Maza told him affected their credibility. But he had also seen enough kindness here to not write them off as completely evil.

_Dammit, this is so difficult. Why am I helping these guys? Why didn't I just confront him, demand an explanation? Why am I so damned nice to these two? I know the depths of their friendship… But is that quality enough to save them? Is that enough?_

_Why do I feel like judge, jury and executioner?_

Still, the issue of finding out what was happening to him still stood. If he was going to get to the bottom of this, he was going to have to do a most hateful thing: snoop around.

*                           *                             *

Snoop around. Easier said than done if you didn't know where to start.

Since Dennis had only the gut instinct that this castle was somehow connected to his life, he really didn't have a lead to actually prove it. And that, well, sucked.

Xanatos and Burnett had been gracious enough to get lost for a few hours, hours he used to look through their computers. Other than a couple of shady deals and morally questionable projects, there wasn't anything there that caught his attention.

_Come on, come on, there's got to be something, anything…_ he thought to himself as he searched through Xanatos' computer. But he soon realized it was worthless and turned it off.

He soon lost all track of time while he snooped through the file cabinet, and the next thing he knew, it was 5 PM. What really surprised him was while Tiffany checked up on him every half hour or so, his two bosses hadn't showed any signs of life. Were they even in the castle?

No harm sneaking into the security camera room and find out. He didn't have enough authority to actually enter the room, but since Xanatos had naïvely left it open, because never in his wildest dream would he expect mild-mannered Anderson to sneak around, well…

"Damn, he should really close this room…" Dennis muttered when he realized this camera room gave him access to all the good parts of the castle.

They were easy to spot. Apparently, they were somewhere with a lot of machines that looked like… gargoyles. The big purple gargoyle that died recently had over twenty metal clones in that storage room. But Dennis decided to not think too hard about those.

Instead, he focused on them, huddling over a computer workplace and turned up the volume.

_"He's not here either,"_ Burnett was saying, _"This is the twentieth record we've checked. No wonder our supposed emissary passed him over. I can't find any updated files anywhere. These files are old, just like the ones from last night."_

_"Last night? We worked last night?"_ Xanatos replied, unusually playful, while Burnett gave him one of his trademarked exasperated looks, _"Hey, I don't recall you__ diligently looking over any boring old files…"_

_"_Anyway_," Burnett continued, deftly avoiding the subject, _"We should probably be thankful our security chief didn't take the new files home the night she was murdered. His cover would've been blown."__

_"Well, what useful information _do_ we have on Mr. Anderson…?"_

Dennis' heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, he didn't want to hear anything else. But he managed to work up the courage to keep on listening.

_"…so in other words, we don't know anything…"_ Xanatos continued, _"He says he worked for Ulead Genetics, which as you might recall, was owned by none other than Anastasia Renard before she sold it to me… we have their old files back in Gen-U-Tech, files we kept in the merger… we could pick up the search there tomorrow. Sunset is soon and we have to meet the clan…"_

_"What do we do with Mr. Anderson? You already offered him a position on Gen-U-Tech. What about that?"_

_"I was just trying to get rid of him for your sake. Though I admit it was interesting to have you jealous,"_ the millionaire replied, and Burnett gave him another look. _"But also I had to take him out of the line of fire. For his own protection. From what we've learned so far, he needs all the protection he can get."_

*                      *                          *

Overhearing that conversation had sent Dennis to the dark pits of despair. He thought he knew what they were talking about. When the security chief was murdered, he had read a note written by Bruno, from the Goon Squad, pointing out that the killer got the old files… so he didn't know Dennis was alive…

"But what does that killer has to do with _me_?" he exclaimed in frustration to the thin air.

It was safe to say his life had gotten a turn a wrong turn and found itself in a bad Twilight Zone episode.

Ulead Genetics. He remembered his life there like the best years of his life. Everything had come to a halt the day Mary died. The lab was lost and it took three lives with it. The following days without her weren't worth remembering, so he had blocked it out of his mind completely.

To this day, he couldn't tell with any certainty what he did those months afterwards. It was like a daze. Memories seen through a fog.

_That's when you gave up, didn't you? Mary died and you just gave up on living. Without her, you are another couch potato in this huge city choke full of them. This is what you get for being careless. Can you pinpoint the last time you had full control over your destiny?_

_You can't, can't you? Good. Then you had this coming. You've been fate's puppet for far too long and she's jerked you around and dragged you through the mud. So what are you going to do about? What are you going to go about it?_

Memories of Mary flooded his mind and he embraced them, but only for a moment. He shook his head to clear those visions. Thinking about Mary always muddled his brain.

_Mary, Mary, Mary, if you could only see me now…_

He tried not to think about her, but the floodgates had been opened and he couldn't stop the raging water. It was enough to make him forget about what happened the months after the accident. He was even a little worried about that.

_Was I so devastated I can't even remember what happened next?_

Release from that brooding came from a most unexpected source. The perky Tiffany had just showed up to deliver some papers and she looked mildly disappointed about something.

            "Heard the news. You must be so glad," she said.

            Dennis blinked. "About?"

            "About the transfer to Gen-U-Tech," Tiffany continued, "It's what you wanted, right?"

            He could've laughed, but didn't. "Oh, yeah, that… Yeah, it's… what I always wanted."

            "Could've fooled me," she replied, "You look as if somebody died."

            "You do too. What's with the long face?"

            "Eh, just some stuff…" Tiffany replied. She clutched her folders and pressed them against her chest. "So you're really leaving, huh?"

He stared at her. He felt tempted to ask her about what was happening, about what was going on, out of sheer desperation of needing someone to talk to. He considered calling Melquisedec later, but what could he say? _"Hi, Mel, sorry we haven't talked lately, but I'm having problems with ghosts lately, and since you're a rabbi, I was thinking…"_

            He inwardly grunted. He wouldn't say anything to anyone. It wasn't in him. But it felt nice to answer Tiffany's question. "I don't know, Tiff. I thought that's what I wanted but now I feel like I have to stay here…"

            She chuckled, softly, "But you hate this!"

            "Yeah…" he said uncomfortable, "… but now I'm starting to think I'm not meant to go back. To genetics, I mean."

            "Does that mean you want to stay here as secretary?"

            "No. Well, maybe. I'm not sure."

            "But I thought genetics was your dream."

            "Well…" he paused for a moment, "I used to think so too, but I'm not sure anymore." He sighed softly. "It's just that Xanatos and Burnett… if I only knew what they were up to, then maybe I'd stick to my guns and bid to stay here… but I get the feeling they're trying to kick me out… and even if I did know, I don't think I'd stay anyway… you _do_ know what Gen-U-Tech's big secret is…"

            "Yes." Tiffany sighed, "The mutates. I know. You're the one that's supposed to help them. Mr. Xanatos told me that you would."

            "How can I work for a guy that did that to those people? How can _you? I don't mean to sound like a traitor… but you have to admit Xanatos' record is turbid, at best…"_

            "Yeah…" she admitted, "It does put a big question mark on your morality. That's true. We've all asked ourselves the very same thing. But we've all learned to look the other way… We know we shouldn't, but…"

            "But if a time comes when the cops or something… else… comes for Xanatos' head… if _you were suddenly the one who would decide who lives and dies… would _you_ have mercy?"_

Although what he _really wanted to know was if __he'd have mercy. _

            "… why do I get the feeling…" he whispered to Tiffany, "…That I'm judge, jury and executioner? I don't like it, and though half of me wants to take that Gen-U-Tech position and escape from those roles… the other knows there's really… no escape…"

            Tiffany didn't answer the original question. "I don't know… would _you have mercy?"_

            And he whispered, "I don't have enough information to answer…"__

But he would. Tonight.

A meeting. He said they were going to a meeting with the clan. Whatever that was, wherever that was, he had to be there. Tonight was the perfect night to get all the answers.

_Please, please, please, to whatever gods out there are listening, give me the strength to carry on and do not let me screw up too badly…_

"Well," Tiffany continued, with that sad little smile, "I think I'm going to miss you. I liked having you around. Hope everything works out in Gen-U-Tech…"

Like that, she was gone. But Dennis was mildly surprised. Was it him, or was she actually a little sad for sending him off? The thought hadn't crossed his mind that he might actually be missed by the people here, much less Tiffany. 'Cuz Tiffany was… Tiffany. Perky, blonde, pretty Tiffany.

He realized that if he were to leave, he'd miss her too. It was strange. He wasn't particularly fond of the people here, but Tiff…

_Almost a month working in this place and not once did it occur to you to ask her for lunch? You IDIOT, you moron, you loser! Why does it take a woman to finally get me off my duff?!_

Now, more than ever, he wished to have his normal life back. He really wanted it, he really did. He wished with all his heart he'd never heard of gargoyles, multimillionaires or ghosts. He saw the nights in front of the TV like a complete and utter waste of time and he was pissed with himself.

He needed to get to the bottom of this. He needed to. Even if he had to go talk to those stone things himself and summon those ghosts with a $19.99 Quija board. But at the same time, it meant finally giving himself over to the weirdness and take the final plunge into the mystery.

The problem was that he didn't like what could come out of the other side. Because then he'd be forced to choose.

And it would be a choice by a human, not by the gods.

PART FOUR

Sunset.

Brooklyn roared and shook all his stone pieces off from his body. The clan, _his clan he had to remind himself, woke up with him in perfect synchronization. _

            "Showtime," he told the guys, "Matt will bring Mystery Man over soon. You guys better wait for us in the Cloisters."

            "What do you think we'll learn in this meeting?" Lexington questioned.

            Brooklyn smirked and said, "If I knew that, we wouldn't be having it."

            Lex chuckled and gave him a playful jab in the arm, "Joker!" and followed the others into the dark night.

Matt hadn't been sure how he would sneak out that guy out of the precinct until Brooklyn presented him the perfect solution. He would personally glide him over to the Cloisters.

The Cloisters. Oh, memories. It had been the place where Demona, Goliath and Brooklyn himself had that big showdown with the obedience spell. It seemed that happened a lifetime ago.

The memory still stung him a little, but he was wise enough to let it go. It took him _some time, of course, but the fact that he hadn't seen Demona in a long while somewhat lessened his hatred for her._

Brooklyn unconsciously smiled to himself, _Damn, __Brooklyn__, when did you grow up? Look away for a moment and you're leader of a clan, no longer bothered —too much— by Demona's presence and no longer fighting over the TV…Goliath, you would've been proud…_

Then Matt showed up, bringing in the infamous Mystery Man.

A tall, relatively handsome and well dressed guy in his mid-thirties, Mystery Man looked delighted of being at the Clock Tower. He looked towards the kitchen and the mini-living room and said, "How quaint! Look, they even have a TV with video."

Then his eyes finally focused on Brooklyn. He smiled toothily. "How do you guys manage to make your nights Blockbuster nights?"

Brooklyn frowned. He didn't like this guy and he had only said one sentence. He didn't even look mildly surprised on seeing a gargoyle. Even Xanatos had been amazed when he woke them up. This guy made their appearance something routine and common. It was surprising, in a weird, disturbing sort of way.

He didn't look worried about anything. He simply strolled around the clock tower, nodding approvingly here and there, at perfect ease with his surrounding. The fact that he was in the presence of a big scary gargoyle didn't faze him for one moment. Brooklyn even felt a bit intimidated about it. Mystery Man was like a poker player who held all the cards. He didn't have any reason to worry about anything at all.

            Brooklyn avoided his question and turned to Matt, "Isn't Elisa coming?"

            Matt shook his head. "Phoned her during the day, only got the answering machine. She must still be upset. Guess she's not coming."

            But it was Mystery Man who said, "Oh, yes. She said that if Xanatos and the elf came, she wouldn't." He faced the startled Brooklyn and added, "Idle threats of a petulant woman. Worry not, Master Brooklyn. She'll be coming up those stairs… now."

Indeed, the trap door leading up to the Clock Tower and the lovely Elisa Maza entered. She climbed up the stairs and walked until she faced the awaiting trio.

"So," she said as she stuffed her hands in her pockets, "Sorry for being late… I came to my senses. There's no way I'm missing this for some jerk."

Brooklyn stared at Mystery Man. How the hell did he know she would come? Now wasn't the time to ask, but still… he was glad Elisa came after all and smiled. Even if it was for the wrong reasons.

            "Still roasting over your own fire, are you, Detective Maza?" Mystery Man told Elisa, "You're _so_ cute when you're angry."

            "I see you've met our perp…" Elisa sighed.

            Brooklyn snapped out of it and mumbled, "Oh, yeah, meeting…" He turned to Mystery Man and said, "You said you wanted to meet the clan?"

            "Yes," Mystery Man replied, and began to look around, "Well, where are they?"

            "We decided it would be best to meet on neutral ground," Elisa replied for Brooklyn, "Xanatos and his assistant don't know where the clan lives, and we'd like it to stay that way."

            "Ooh, troubles in paradise. Alrighty then…Useless security measure, considering they already know, but, hey, whatever floats your boat…"

Brooklyn felt strongly tempted to ask how he knew that they knew, or if he was just jerking their chains, but decided not to. Instead, he asked, "Well, what's your name?"

            "Why?"

            "Why what?"

            "Why should I tell you my name? Like I pointed to the good detectives the other day, if I tell you my name, how can you tell if it's real or not?"

            "Don't bother, Brooklyn," Matt muttered under his breath, "It's a pointless battle…"

            Brooklyn, however, crossed his arms and gave Mystery Man a look. "Yeah, but if our new friend wants our help and our trust, he's gotta be more cooperative than that. I heard there's a jail cell at Riker's waiting for him."

            Mystery Man arched his perfect eyebrow. "The End of All Things is coming and you're asking me my name?" He sighed dramatically, "Oh, the stupidities enlightened beings like me must endure…"

            "Indulge us," Brooklyn said acidly.

            Ever the melodramatic, he took a disenchanted deep breath and said, "Alright, just so you don't think the worst of me…" He extended his hand as if for a handshake, smiled and said, "Name's Kramer. Lester Kramer. Shaken, not stirred. Future god, two thirds omniscient, know the present, know the past but don't know the future, which sucks, but hey, what can I do? You must be Brooklyn, new leader of the Manhattan Clan, tenth century reject. Your hobbies include playing video games and chasing everything in a skirt. You've been rejected twice and you ease your pain in dark alleys when you stick your hands in your loincloth and jerk off like there's no tomorrow."

Brooklyn's jaw reached his ankles while Matt groaned and Elisa covered her face. "Here we go again…" she muttered.

The gargoyle's eyes flashed white and he yelled, "You snotty bastard! Who the hell do you think you are!?"

"Lester Kramer. I just told you."

Brooklyn grabbed Lester Kramer by the neck and started to throttle him while Matt and Elisa trying to spilt them apart. "Get him off me!" Lester was yelling as he laughed maniacally, "I don't think he washed his hands!"

The detectives managed to pull Brooklyn away from Lester. Lester, ever so helpful, merely sneered and added, "Why so offended? Hell, everybody knows about that worn-out Demona photo…"

"Don't listen to him! It's his greeting speech!" Elisa was telling him, "Gets a kick out of insulting people thirty seconds into meeting them!"

Brooklyn took deep breaths to calm himself down. He tried to summon his common sense and get some of his dignity back. He seized up Lester, who was just standing there looking smug as if they had just had a minor squabble over sports or politics. Brooklyn felt an intense, acid desire to smack him around. But Elisa was right. He was just said that to agitate him.

Gritting his teeth, he managed to say, "You're certainly being cocky for a man that's demanding a lot."

Lester crossed his arms, "Hey, you need me, no matter what. So I can be an asshole all the times I want. So move along, you talking flying glider you, and take me to your clan."

Brooklyn could hardly believe it. In only five minutes, he'd gotten on his nerves and encouraged him to kill him. And now he was bossing him around. What kind of emissary was this? What the hell had been Titania thinking!?

"Fine!" Brooklyn growled, "Let's get this over with!"

He took several menacing steps towards Lester, but even then, Lester didn't squirm. He just smiled. Even though Brooklyn towered over him somewhat, Lester had a way of looking bigger than him.

            Brooklyn took him in his arms the rudest way possible, making sure Lester was uncomfortable all through the flight. And then he said in his best, most frightening tone, "If you fall, nobody's going to give a damn."

            "Ooh…" Lester replied, "Such an attitude! Does this mean I won't get peanuts in the flight?"

            "Glad you two are getting along," Matt muttered sarcastically, "Elisa and I will meet you in the Cloisters."

            "I know what you're thinking," Elisa added, "Don't drop him."

            Brooklyn looked down at his passenger, who in turn gave him a smile. "Giddy up, horsy!"

            The gargoyle emitted a low, disgusted growl. "I make no promises…"

*                             *                               *

            Matt watched the gargoyle and the supposed Lester Kramer glide into the night and turned to his partner. "So. You came back."

            "I had to," Elisa said. "Clan business, you know. Plus, I really want to know what's going on."

            "Even if you see Xanatos' hated face once more?"

            "I'll behave, I promise."

            "Elisa…" Matt spoke as he bit his lip a little, "Everybody understands, you know. And you're right. You don't have any obligation to be nice to him. It's just that it would… make things easier, I think."

            "I know, Matt, I know," she said. "I've been thinking about this all day. I stayed home, lay on the bed and… just started thinking."

            "Did you arrive to any conclusions?"

            "Not really. Only that… this is going to sound stupid…" she laughed weakly, "…for a moment, I really thought about not coming back. Skipping town, actually. For five minutes, I seriously considered moving out of the city and get another life… then I came to my senses. I realized… I could never leave you guys. With or without Goliath, I simply couldn't. Of course, that's not all…"

            "Oh?"

            She closed her eyes and whispered, "Suddenly, this thought crossed my mind. Like a flash of lightning. And for a brief second… I thought I knew… Everything. That the whole knowledge of the world was in my hands. I forgot it a second later, sure… but one thing remained in my mind…" she opened her eyes and looked at Matt, "… that I must go to this meeting. No matter what. It was like when I realized that I loved Goliath. That same flash of light. Nature told me. It's in the stars."

"You'll never know how much I love Goliath. I don't think there are enough words. I didn't even know it myself… but when I learned what happened, that he died and he was gone forever, something just… snapped. It was the happiest realization of my life suddenly followed by pain. It is human nature not to know how much we love someone until its too late. In my case… I understood that I've always loved him. From the moment I fell off the skyscraper. But that knowledge, I think, came before its time. I was meant to love him, but I wasn't supposed to know… until later. Now that 'later' will never come. And here I am. Too smart for my own good, all too aware that my chance to love him… is over."

"Written in the stars, eh?" Matt commiserated, "The destiny of those around us was sealed when the castle rose above the clouds. Yours, the clan's. Even mine."

"Yeah," Elisa replied, "But for better or worse, here we are. Cheated out of our destiny, yet building another one. Let's go to that stupid meeting. Let's see what new future we have written for ourselves."

*                            *                              *

Brooklyn had always considered himself a get-together guy. That was one of the reasons Goliath chose him as second-in-command. He always managed to keep his head straight even at the worst times.

This wasn't one of those worst times. This went _way_ past the definition of 'bad'. Carrying Lester Kramer to the Cloisters was the most grueling attack on his senses and his mind, a test whether he would be able to take his charge to the place without a broken neck.

It wasn't his inane conversation about sodas, though it was certainly part of it. It wasn't his weird power that allowed him to know every single dirty thing Brooklyn did and was giving him a list of such. It wasn't his ego, which was a pretty terrifying thing into itself.

No, what really bothered Brooklyn were his balls. His iron plated _cojones. The guts he had to piss off a gargoyle while they were gliding three thousand feet over the ground. So either this man had a death wish or was nuts. Long ago, he had ruled out stupidity. This man was anything but stupid._

            "Hey, beak face…" Lester began, "Are we there yet?"

            "No."

            "Are we there yet?"

            "_No."_

            "Are we there yet?"

            "_No!"_

            "Are we there yet?"

            "**_No!_"**

            "Are we there yet?"

            "_NO, YOU ASSHOLE, WE'RE NOT THERE YET AND UNLESS YOU WANT TO WALK, GRANTED YOU SURVIVE THE FALL, I SUGGEST YOU JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!"_

            "Are we there yet?"

            It took every little bit of self-possession from Brooklyn's part not to drop him right now. But he couldn't help yelling, "Are you for real!? Aren't you a bit concerned about your safety? Are you deliberately looking for me to drop you to your doom?!"

            "I know how I'm going to die, Mr. Brooklyn. I saw it in a vision. And it isn't as street pizza," Lester said, matter-of-factly.

            "Well, in your vision of death, do you recall wearing a cast all over your body or not?"

            Lester Kremer opened his mouth. And closed it again. "Succinctly put, Master Brooklyn. I hadn't considered that."

_Hallelujah! I finally nailed him one! There _is_ a God!_ Brooklyn wanted to scream in happiness.

For a supposed human that was supposed to be Titania's emissary, Lester Kramer sure didn't look like much. If he really was her emissary, they were screwed and Titania had gone nuts.

He had to admit one thing: the man _did have powers. Somehow, he could reach into the past and know everything about you. While the idea of asking him about it was tempting, Brooklyn's main objective was shutting him up for as long as he could._

Though he hadn't been too worried yesterday night when Elisa told him of this new problem, he was worried now. Once you got past Lester's irritating matter, you had to gasp at the power he held in his hands.

_If this guy ever took it seriously, he could be a really dangerous enemy,_ he thought. _Granted, who's to say he's not the enemy right now?_

Part of the reason why he had volunteered to take him to the Cloisters himself was to seize him up and get to know him better. Clearly, that had been a stupid idea. The jerk was odious and he was probably doing it on purpose to put off any unwanted questions.

_Focus, __Brooklyn__, just focus! If you can't handle jerks like this one, how can you hope to lead the clan?_

And for a moment, albeit a very brief one, Brooklyn thought he could see the trees from the forest. But then Lester started talking again and the moment was over.

            "You know what?" Lester continued, much to Brooklyn's dismay, "I like you. I really do. I've been a very bad boy, but you didn't give up on me. So what do you want to know?"

            "About?"

            "About anything. Hey, you're talking to the living fountain of knowledge here. I know everything that happened and is happening right now."

            "Bullshit. Nobody has that power."

            "I'm hurt! 'Cuz _I_ have that power," Lester sneered

            "You mean to tell me you know every single detail of everybody's lives up until this moment?"

            Lester didn't answer right away. "Hmm. Touché. Not _every detail. I'm not that powerful. _Yet_."_

            "So you _don't_ know everything, do you?"

            The human sighed melodramatically. "Rub it in, why don't you? But then there's the matter of your question. My boon to you. Ask me what's in your heart and I'll be glad to answer to the best of my _limited abilities," he said with a soft note of sarcasm._

            Brooklyn considered it for a moment, then shook his head. "Forget it. There's nothing you can tell me now that I wouldn't learn later."

"Really?" Lester sneered, cocking his head a bit. Brooklyn didn't like that expression one bit. "In another life, things are not like this. Goliath is alive and Detective Maza is with him. In this very moment, they would be fighting for their lives but they would survive. And when the sun rises this morning, they would kiss. And they would be so happy. So very happy."

            "Why are you telling me that?" Brooklyn growled, "What are you up to, Mystery Man? Why did Titania send you, why is all this happening?"

            "Why, Brooklyn…" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Isn't that one of the things you would learn later?"

            "You think you're so smart, huh? You are aware of the dangerous thing you've done by getting the clan involved, right? So you know that once we're in a problem, we shall see it through to the end. And in your case, if you don't make it good tonight, your end will be rotting in a jail cell for the rest of your life."

            "I've got no problems with that, my man Brooklyn," Lester replied, "…but there's a reason why I told you that. Tell me… if given the chance to get your old leader back and reuniting him with his pseudo-girlfriend… would you take it?"

Now Brooklyn was truly perplexed. Lester Kramer asked that with utter seriousness and it was… scary.

He wasn't sure how to answer that. Or even if he should answer at all. But he decided to respond, even though it would leave him a bit open, because he had a morbid interest on where this conversation was going. Besides, he wasn't about to feel ashamed over his own emotions.

            "Sure. Of course I would," Brooklyn said, with defiant sincerity. "I want them to be happy. I want Goliath back, I want things to return to normal. I've seen Elisa and I understand her pain… I would give life and limb to change it back. It's my honest desire."

            "And if you had to sacrifice somebody? If somebody had to die for their happiness? Would you take it?"

            Brooklyn looked at him startled. "No… I don't know. But I don't think so. It's not honest." He paused. "What does that have to do with anything?"

This time, Lester merely smiled. He pointed downwards and said, "Honey, we're home! Land us somewhere nice, ok?"

Brooklyn grunted at looked down. They'd arrived to the Cloisters rather quickly.

They touched ground by the gardens near the Gothic entrance. This place truly seemed like a throwback from the medieval times. The guys were probably waiting inside. Still, they did not enter right away. Brooklyn's mind was in their conversation.

"Why have you told me these things? What's the point of that conversation?"

Lester Kramer turned around and merely stood there, pondering an answer. "Because I like you," he said. "Because when the time comes, I want you to know the true horror of Queen Titania's proposal. And you will agree with me that the key must be stopped. It's my gift to you for not dropping me. And a chance, _the_ chance, to prove you are a worthy leader of the clan."

And Brooklyn whispered, "I don't understand…"

And Lester Kramer replied, "You will. Now come on inside."

PART FIVE

Sunset.

Finding out where those two were going was easier than he thought. Overhearing them a few times gave Dennis the correct information.

Apparently, they had some sort of meeting the gargoyles Xanatos always talked about, in the old monasticism museum called the Cloisters half an hour away from the castle. It was only a matter of picking up a map and following them there.

Of course, they neglected to mention anything to him. The papers for his transfer to Gen-U-Tech were underway. They were definitely bent on getting rid of him. Supposedly, _for his own protection._

Still, half an hour before the meeting, Dennis wasn't completely sure about it, about whether it was the correct thing to do. He only needed one more nudge to devote himself completely, the nudge Owen Burnett unwittingly provided in that last, puzzling conversation.

He had appeared around his office just before Dennis was about to go home, which was damn weird because he was under the impression Burnett hated his presence there. (Then again, judging from what he'd overheard in various conversations, losing his job didn't preoccupy Mr. Burnett any longer. But maybe he was reading way too much into what he heard. _Maybe_. Dennis was usually very good at tying two and two together. Many times a blessing, it now seemed a curse.)

            "So," Burnett said, crossing his arms and casually leaning against a wall, "I heard you are to be transferred to Gen-U-Tech. Are you happy about it?"

            Dennis gave him a look, but tried to play it casual. No need to let him know he knew what was going on. So he shrugged and said, "Guess so. It's my field, after all."

            "They tell me you used to work on Ulead Genetics. Did you ever meet Dr. Renard? Anastasia Renard, I mean. Not the old man."

            Always happy to talk about his old company, Dennis lightened up considerably. "Actually, yes. One of the nicest scientists I ever had the pleasure of working for."

            "Huh."

Huh. If Dennis didn't know better, he could've sworn Burnett regarded his comment with some contempt. Or maybe he was reading too much into it.

Neither said anything for a moment. Dennis thought that was Burnett's cue to leave, but he didn't seem ready to go. He stepped inside the office and sat on one seats in front of the desks. Apparently, he was here for more than a simple conversation.

Ah, hell. Why didn't he see it before? This was an interrogation. A chance to pump out information out of him. Damn…

"You know…" Burnett began, "I'm afraid my comeback has been so hectic, we haven't even spoken much. Not since you dragged me into the infirmary. I don't think I've thanked you… so thank you. For helping me."

"You're welcomed," Dennis said, sounding just a tad wary.

Mr. Burnett's attempts at conversation were blatantly transparent. The sad thing was that if this conversation had taken place yesterday, Dennis would've eaten it like a chump. It didn't hit him until now that Xanatos and Burnett regarded him as someone none too bright, maybe like a common salary man unaware of the mysteries of upper management.

In short, they made him feel stupid. He felt patronized and looked down at and it really pissed him off. This transfer, for his so-called protection, added insult to injury. He could protect himself from… whatevers… just fine, thankyouverymuch.

            "Tell me a bit about that," Burnett went on, "About your job. What was it like?"

            "Nice. It was nice." He left it like that. He wasn't about to spill everything he knew for Burnett's amusement.

            But Burnett insisted. "I heard you once had a fiancée. Was she a co-worker?"

            "Yes," Dennis said dryly, "She died in an accident."

            "I'm sorry to hear that."

            Dennis killed the impulse to mumble 'yeah, right'. The last thing he needed was retelling the biggest personal trauma to the likes of him. He decided to end the interrogation as swiftly as he could. "I hate to do this to you, but I'm really tired and I was just on my way out."

            Burnett blinked. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said as he stood up, surprised and politely disappointed, "I guess we'll talk later…"

            "Yeah," he said, trying not to sound like he was desperate to leave, "Guess we'll… talk tomorrow. Say good night to Mr. X for me…"

Dennis rushed out before Burnett could say a word. Now he was decided. He was definitely going to that meeting in the Cloisters. He was feeling mocked by those two and he wanted to do something about it. See what sort of game they had gotten him involved.

*                           *                           *

He made a quick stop by his apartment, to pick up a few things. The stack of papers he'd written in a trance was still in his dinner table. He went through them and picked up several versions of what he thought to be a poem.

He didn't know what it meant. The same poem was written in over twenty languages over a dozen of papers, English being just one among many. He stuffed the Spanish and English ones into his pocket, feeling that they might come in handy. He wasn't sure what made him do that, but he shrugged off the feeling. Better safe than sorry.

But he knew exactly what made him go for that gun under his bed.

The first week on Xanatos Enterprises, Xanatos insisted he took a crash-course on weapon firing. His aiming sucked, but he had passed the test. With a C, true, but he passed.

Tonight he thought that gun would be useful. But he had put it away as quickly as he had taken it out.

_You idiot, you know you don't have it in you, _he thought._ So don't try to act macho or go Charlton Heston on me. That's not your style. _

What could he possibly accomplish with a gun, anyway? Yes, he felt pissed because he thought he was being lied to. But just because he had it, it didn't mean he had to use it.

He was bigger than that. At the risk of sounding like a reader of self-help books, he was a smart and intelligent person that as capable of figuring out the secrets working against him. And if had been smart enough to realize that, if he had been capable to sneak to the camera room and overhear their conversations successfully, he could handle this.

He knew something odd was happening to him. And he considered he had reacted appropriately within the bounds of sanity. If someone else had been in this situation, they would've done the same thing. Or even run away. But he hadn't. And that had to mean something.

_I know I'm not as interesting and clever as Burnett or a martial artist genius like Xanatos, but I'm me. I can't shoot and I can't do cool karate moves. But that's ok, because I don't need to._

_I wasn't born for this weirdness, but since I'm here, I might as well deal with it the only way I know how. It worked pretty well for thirty two years, so why change? I'm not about to turn into a vengeful vigilante with a chip the size of __Texas__ on my shoulder. I know I'm being screwed, but no reason to turn stupid because of it._

He knew then that he was destined to play the guy whose life got turned upside down in an Outer Limits episode, but at last he was beginning to be ok with it.

That didn't mean he was about to waltz into the Cloisters without protection.

When Bruno finally realized he was a hopeless case, he had shaken his head and mumbled something about not lasting a year. "I can't, in good conscience, let a guy like you walk out this building helpless…" Bruno added, "So what about this?"

He gave him a stun taser gun, the ones that fry a guy for a couple of minutes. Bruno had been the unfortunate test subject. At least Dennis saw that the electric stick actually worked.

If all went well, chances were he wouldn't use it. But something told him things would not go well. There was something in the air tonight, like a fragrance that one didn't know where it was coming from. Like a perfumed woman you couldn't pinpoint, lost walking in among crowd.

It was as if every single thing in nature, from the trees to his old dog Kennedy slumping next to the TV, told him that something would happen tonight.

He was almost sure something would happen. No questions about it. The only thing he had to figure out was what.

_TO BE CONTINUED…_


End file.
